After Goodbye
by sienna27
Summary: Bonus Challenge #30 - Title Challenge: The Kiss & The Kiss-Off: Per the challenge, it's narrative style. Two shot, Emily/JJ love story. Told in first person, their relationship is on the rocks. Can it be fixed?
1. Shades Of Blue

**Author's Note**: First, if you didn't see my profile, **I set up a twitter for my writing. It's easy, ffsienna27**. Given how loopy the site can be (FYI, check the main page, they're deleting all of our PMs at the end of July) I wanted to start branching away from them. I have no plans to stop posting here (though I will start my own site at some point) but I wanted to have another way to reach people beyond the frigging messaging system that seems to crash every couple months. For now I'll use the twitter basically for story announcements, but we'll see how it goes.

**So back to the story.** This is another entry in the 'kiss & kiss off' challenge. The challenge struck an unexpected nerve in that I've started stories for basically all the couples I don't generally write. Or more specifically the ones that I don't write but I have no personal objection to :) So you know there won't be any Emily/Reid pairings because there isn't enough Dramamine in the world for me to get through that without hurling. I really got a little queasy just writing the sentence.

This one is JJ and Emily. Different for me, perhaps for some of my regular readers as well, but please give it a chance if you can. I worked hard on it. Yes, it's a female love story of two (apparently) hetero characters, but really who is to say that they were exclusively hetero their entire lives? Exactly. So this relationship is worked within canon dynamics as realistically as any of the fake relationships that we write here for couples that aren't really together. All I ask is that you please make that leap of faith once again :)

Because this is the exact same challenge as the Morgan/JJ posting (and I'm sure at least a couple of you out there read that one) I wanted to make sure this one was a very different tale. So it's still narrative, but it's all first person. And we open with them already broken up and Emily's writing a letter.

Due credit to the secondary prompt which really gave me the legs for this one.

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><p><strong>Bonus Challenge #30 - Potpourri Times Three<strong>

Show: Home Improvement

Title Challenge: The Kiss & The Kiss-Off

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><p><strong>Prompt Set #10 (February 2011)<strong>

Show: Elizabeth Scott

Title: Love You, Hate You, Miss You

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><p><strong>Shades Of Blue<strong>

There are days now when I look back and remember only good things. I tell myself that for most of our relationship we never fought, that we laughed all the time, and that every day spent with you was a happy day.

Of course that's complete bullshit.

I'm just lying to myself. Trying to smooth over the rough edges of our past before I cut myself again. But in the process I'm doing a disservice to what we really had, trying to remember our relationship as something different than what it was.

As though the reality wasn't good enough.

The reality was wonderful. You should know that some of the happiest days of my life were the ones I spent with you. And we were so good together for so long.

But then things started to change.

You . . . started to change. You didn't want to go out alone together anymore. You'd say you were tired, or it was too late . . . or my favorite . . . maybe some other day.

But those other days didn't come.

And then you started behaving differently when we were out with the team. They had been our safety zone. The one place out in the world where we could always feel completely comfortable being ourselves. After all the team . . . well, Hotch anyway . . . had known about us by then for almost a year. The others for at least six months. They supported our relationship. Defended it. And they were happy for us, and we were happier still being out with them.

For a time anyway.

But then one night we went out for a beer, and I put my hand on your shoulder . . . and you shook it off. Then you slid just a little further down the booth and turned away. That hurt. I didn't tell you that at the time, but that first night you did that . . . I almost cried. But then I told myself that you were just upset about the case, that it wasn't me.

It was just the day.

For a little I believed that . . . the next three times it happened anyway. But pretty soon you were sitting on the other side of the table, and then you were making conversation with everybody but me. And that's when I started to see that it _was_ me. All of a sudden you were ashamed of me.

Of us.

It started there . . . with the little things that weren't . . . and then it got worse. The life that I thought we'd been building . . . the family that I thought we'd been planning . . . you said that you didn't want it anymore. Of course initially, it wasn't exactly in those words.

Honesty didn't come until much later.

No, at first when you began to pull away from our future it was through deflection. You said it wasn't the right point in our lives. That it would hurt our careers, not only to take the time off, but to take that step to out our relationship. That we'd be labeled by our friends and colleagues that didn't know we were together.

That they'd call us dykes.

As soon as you said that horrible word I'd felt a dagger in my heart. Because that's when I could truly see the problem for what it was.

Your parents.

That's what they'd called us that awful day a few months before. And apparently that word had been festering in your brain . . . eating away at our future.

Do you remember that day? That day when you told them that I gave you a ring and we were planning on starting a family. I remember it like it happened this morning.

They flipped.

They screamed at you and said that their tolerance of your little experimentation was one thing. That they understood it was just a result of all the testosterone in your work environment . . . women doing men's jobs . . . but that eventually you'd grow out of it and move on to find a "normal" relationship with a man. And as though that wasn't bad enough, then they said that if you went forward with starting a "new age family" with "that woman" . . . speaking about me as though I wasn't in the room . . . you'd be ruining your life, your career and any possible future you might have with a man.

I'd like to add in here now that your parents are complete and utter morons. I hope you know that now . . . or maybe you don't. If you did then I think you'd still be sleeping next to me at night. But either way, that needed to be said because I didn't say it before. Before I was trying to spare your feelings.

We're beyond that.

So I want you to remember that day now for what it really was, cruel and hateful people masking their ignorance and fear under the guise of love and concern for your well being. That's all that was. And I wanted to tell them to fuck off, to go to hell and rot there . . . but I'd promised you that I wouldn't. Because you promised me that you'd handle it.

Liar.

You just stood there and took it. These people who professed to love you were shitting all over the woman that YOU had professed to love just an hour before they'd arrived at our home. How could you do that to me? Again.

To us.

But then, what made all of that even worse, was days later when you tried to pretend that it hadn't happened. That it was all in my mind and that their reaction hadn't been that bad.

It was just normal parental concern.

That's when I should have seen the writing on the wall. But I hadn't. Not then.

Not yet.

Not until you said the D word a few weeks later. That's when I realized that they were brainwashing you just like they had for the twenty plus years before I came into your life. And I want to tell you something now Jen, something I want you to remember always . . . you can't remake the past simply by saying it didn't happen.

It's not fucking Orwell.

Still though . . . on that day . . . even with your obvious denial about how badly things had gone, at first I thought we'd work through it. That it was just a rough patch, that every couple has them. And a female couple in conservative jobs, with conservative families . . . though mine are the flipping Kennedys compared to yours, my mother offered to pay for the wedding if I promised to wear a dress . . . who suddenly announce that they want to get married and have a baby, well, they're going to perhaps have a few more rougher patches than most.

But we ended living in briars for months.

And those happiest days . . . they started coming further and further apart. First it was your interactions with me in public, then with the team . . . then us at home. I'd walk into the living room, you'd go into the bedroom. I'd ask if I should make dinner, you'd say you grabbed a bite in your office. You were becoming quieter and more distant.

Detached.

That was the worst of it . . . the point where my heart started to break. I could see you, not only physically, but mentally disengaging with me. And I was helpless to stop it. When I look back at how things were towards the end, I can see that I started picking the fights on purpose. To see that ocean of blue in your eyes swirl and darken from sky to sapphire.

Sometimes with no stops in between.

Because once we were at sapphire you'd be screaming at me over something like the dishes that I purposely hadn't done just so you'd be forced to talk to me. And I'd find myself simply responding to your accusations by rote. All I wanted was your attention . . . some acknowledgement that I still existed. But there was no longer any point in bothering to truly engage.

It was over by then.

So the end of our relationship was just me staring into that cerulean abyss, remembering. Remembering how things were before your parents planted those seeds that destroyed everything. For that there will be no forgiveness.

For that I'll hate them always.

Things limped along for a few more months, but then one day it all came to a full stop.

You left.

One Wednesday afternoon I flew out to Cincinnati with Hotch, and then that Friday I came home from a perfectly routine prison interview to find a very unroutine note sitting on our kitchen table. You said no more. That you were done. That you weren't going to live your life constantly on the verge of an all out war. That if I couldn't respect the life that you wanted to lead . . . apparently the one where we were living in shame and darkness . . . then you owed it to yourself to leave before things got worse.

Before you grew to truly hate me.

Then you said that you'd gotten a job at the DEA and that you'd left your resignation on Hotch's desk while we were away in Ohio.

That you'd already cleaned out your desk.

And all of that hurt . . . it hurt so much . . . but not as much as seeing your ring lying there next to the five hundred dollars you left for the rent. But worse still was how you signed the letter. Just one word.

Goodbye.

You wrote goodbye. Not I love you, or I'll miss you, or I'm sorry for being a coward and not standing up to my parents and then leaving you when you aren't here to stop me. That's what you should have said. That's what my Jen would have said.

But my Jen was already long gone.

And the woman that was left just wrote "goodbye" and dropped a stack of cash on the table. Like I was your fucking landlord and you were just settling up accounts.

You bitch.

You hateful, self centered, prissy little bitch. Even though I suspected the end was coming, I hadn't seen it coming like that. I'd thought so much more of you. I'd hoped that eventually the woman that I'd fallen in love with would come back to me. That she'd tell her parents to go screw, and then she'd tell me she was sorry for how she'd treated me. Then she'd put my ring back on her finger and we'd be happy again.

What an idiot I was.

Nobody gets the girl in the end. That's only for fairytales and simpletons.

Reality sucks.

And now as I sit here typing this letter to you I'm filled with anger and bitterness and self loathing. And I hate you for that. For ruining even my memories of the beautiful girl with the beautiful blue eyes, who had brought me more happiness in our two years together than I thought I deserved.

Apparently I didn't deserve it.

But I didn't deserve what you did to me either. You broke my heart, you spit on our relationship and you tainted my memories. And you didn't even seem to care.

Or if you did . . . you didn't care to show it.

When you get this I hope that you read it, and you see it for what it is . . . the truth that you tried to avoid. The last words that I deserved to have. Here they are.

I miss you.

I miss us. I miss our life before. I miss the baby we didn't have, and the old age that we planned and the life that we won't live. And as much as I hate you for how you left, I hate myself more for loving you still. I hope you grow up. I hope you find your true self again. I hope that someday maybe you'll be happy and stop hating yourself for what you really are. Because what you are is not what your parents said. You're not a deviant or an embarrassment. You're beautiful.

You shine.

And for our time together I was so proud that you were mine. And that's the truth that you didn't want to hear . . . that our life together was right. Now you live with that. Accept it.

And please . . . be stronger for it.

Always,

Emily

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><p><em>AN 2: So yeah, there you go. Though the challenge is the same as JJ/Morgan, I wanted this second entry to be a very different breakup for very different reasons which is why I cleaned up the same sex relationship before any others. It gave a unique set of new pitfalls for them to traverse. And even as we move further and further into the future, there are still many people very stuck in some very ugly mindsets so I didn't find that at all a stretch. There are people still poisoning their children. And with JJ a decade younger than Emily . . . and I can say without a doubt I am not the same person in my thirties as I was in my twenties . . . of the two of them, for this fictional version, I saw her being the one more likely still in that place to be manipulated by her parents into thinking there was something wrong with her life. Because really, if you hit the right nerve, we're all still in that place. For good manipulation or bad, your family will always be able to push your buttons. They installed them. And really, I can't recall (in the time that I was watching CM) any very special episodes covering JJ's relationship with her parents. But here in this world, they're schmucks. And I see Emily as older and more comfortable in her skin taking that other road, but still torn between her hurt and her knowledge that what JJ had done was coming from her own demons and she needed to be understanding of that._

_The title, dual meaning, it's half straight forward 'what happens after the breakup,' and then half inspiration from the site 'after Ellen.' _

_This was kind of hard to write. Which is good actually, I've found if it's harder to write then I feel like I'm investing more. So, whether you're into the pairing I or not, please let me know what you thought. _

_I have JJ's portion sketched out in my head but it might not go up for a week or so. My brain's in bouncy ball mode from story to story. Thanks everybody for the reviews on the last post. This new PM system has me all thrown off but I'll try and sort out my responses tomorrow :) And again, twitter!_


	2. Shades of Grey

**Author's Note:** Another Sienna's Sick Day, cleanup.

I had initially planned a different ending here. The one I had in mind was what I envisioned PRIOR to finishing chapter one. But after that was all polished to the version that it became, I could no longer see the JJ point of view in the same way. So, though this might not be what you thought was going to happen (it's not what _I _thought was going to happen) this is how it goes. And I'll explain at the end why it went this way instead.

**Other Accounts:**

_**Twitter: ffsienna27 **__– For story announcements, etc. If the alerts, (or the site), are down, this is a backup to find out what's going on for postings. There's also random randomness that is my brain._

_**Personal Website:**__ (alternate posting location. Open to all writers/fandoms)_

_**Tumblr: sienna27 **__– More randomness from my brain._

_**Tumblr**__: __**cmfanficprompts **__- As implied from the title, CM fanfic prompts and pics. Jointly run w/KaviLeighanna._

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><p><strong>Prompt Set #49 (June 2013)<strong>

Show: Medium

Title Challenge: Me Without You

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><p><span><strong>Shades of Grey<strong>

It's been three years since I last saw you.

I'm not sure if you've heard . . . or would have cared to know even if you had . . . but I got married fourteen months ago.

To a man.

Just thought I'd clarify that. My husband's name is Will. He's a Metro homicide detective. He's very nice. Sweet, intelligent . . . kind. On paper, he's an excellent life partner.

But that didn't stop me from filing for divorce three weeks ago last Thursday.

He was . . . is, devastated. I guess I am too. Because my life wasn't supposed to turn out this way. I was supposed to grow up, find a nice boy, get married . . . and be happy.

But then I met you.

And now I can't find a nice boy to make me happy . . . they only make me cry.

Even Will.

Every time my husband wanted to make love, I'd feel my stomach turn. But I'd cover my nausea with a smile. At least I tried to.

Smile that is.

Sometimes I think it came off as more of a grimace. But if Will noticed the difference, he never called me on it.

But dear God why would he want to?

Either way though, once I was undressed, I'd turn out the light. Then I'd lie down and as my husband moved on top of me, my eyes would start to water . . . and then they'd fall shut. And when he entered me, every SINGLE time, my nails would immediately claw down his back. I think Will thought it was the passion of the moment. Really, I was just bracing myself.

I was waiting for it to be done.

That poor man. The absolute hell I've put him through. But I know that's nothing compared to what I did to you. And I know that these words are coming too late, but still they need to be said.

I'm sorry Emily.

I'm so sorry. My heart aches when I think back to our last months together. How distant I was.

How cruel.

And I was so confident that day I left. So sure of myself and the decision I'd made to move on without you. But now I know that decision was wrong. I made a terrible mistake.

One that I know cannot be fixed.

And that was what I was trying to do . . . fix things. Fix what was wrong with my life. Or at least what my parents had told me was wrong with it.

You.

They were idiots.

You were right about that . . . you were right about a lot of things. And I'm not sure if it pleases you or not, but I thought you might like to know that I'm no longer speaking to either of them. I cut off ties about six months after the wedding.

That was around the point where I realized my marriage was a sham.

I blamed them for that too, but really . . . it was my choice to get married. Just as it was my choice to leave you.

And those are decisions I need to own.

But still, you deserved to hear me say it . . . you were right about them. They were . . . are . . . hateful and cruel people. They're close minded bigots. And I shouldn't have let them ruin that wonderful life that we had. But I did.

And again, that's on me.

But that black and white view of the world that I had back then . . . back when I left you . . . it's now all upside down.

It's all shades of grey.

And I'd like very much to track you down, to talk to you about that . . . to talk to you about so many things.

But I won't.

Because you see, I was at the mall last week and I ran into Morgan . . . it was awkward. Even all these years later it's still awkward whenever I see anyone on the team. Because I know that they chose sides. And I know that they chose you.

Every last one of them.

But still, he was my one link . . . my one opportunity . . . to see how you were doing.

To see if, perhaps, you might want to hear from me.

So we talked for a few minutes, polite, strained conversation. And then I saw that he was about to wrap things up . . . so I grabbed my chance. I asked how you were.

If you were still in the unit.

And he said yes, and then I could hear his tone harden as he added that you'd met someone. A woman who worked in Missing Children. That the two of you had gotten married last April. And that you had just adopted a baby from Russia.

Her name was Kira.

She was six months old.

And though I wanted to do what was expected of me . . . to smile and say how nice that was, how happy I was for you . . . those words were beyond me.

They weren't even in me.

Instead I stared up at him for a moment . . . and then my eyes fell to the cold floor . . . and I began to cry. Because I'd known then . . . finally and for sure . . . that we were done. Because you'd gotten everything that you'd wanted . . . and you'd gotten it without me.

You'd moved on.

I knew that Morgan was clearly taken aback by my tears. And I could see, for just a moment . . . as I was frantically wiping my eyes . . . that he almost reached out to touch my arm. But then that moment passed and his expression tightened again. I knew then that he was remembering all of the hurt that I had caused you. All of the pain.

And how cruelly I had left.

And so rather than patting my arm in sympathy, or saying something kind, something that he would have said back when we were still friends . . . or even if we were total strangers . . . he instead whispered the truth that I didn't want to hear.

That I had only myself to blame.

The words hurt . . . but the truth so often does. And so I took my medicine. With a nod and a sniffle I murmured yes, yes, that's true. Then I began to dig in my bag for a tissue, and out of the corner of my eye I saw his expression shift ever so slightly . . . but it didn't soften. Not even a little. And I think that was the first time that I REALLY got it.

He hated me.

But I have only myself to blame for that too. I fucked up. I fucked up everything. And then I moved on . . . made another life . . . and I fucked that one up too. I destroyed somebody else's life.

I'm a god damn wrecking ball.

But anyway, these are my issues to work out . . . my penance to make. And I know that I've taken up enough of your time now. But before I go, there's just one more thing that I wanted to tell you. The day that I filed for divorce . . . that was the week I missed my period. Yeah, I'm pregnant. Isn't that a kick in the ass? I'm pregnant, and I'm alone, and I'm miserable. And I miss you, Em.

I miss you so much.

Because this baby was supposed to be ours. I know that in my soul. I knew it the moment that I saw that stick turn blue. And perhaps if the world was different, there would be some way for me to go back, and to make up for what I did.

But that's a foolish thought from a foolish woman.

Because the world is what it is and time has not been my friend. I let too much of it pass, and too much of it be tarnished with my idiocy . . . and my denial. And now you have another life. The life that you always wanted.

With somebody else.

Which is why I'm writing you this letter. This letter that you'll never see. It's an exercise, one from my therapist. She said that I needed to get it all out . . . it was the only way I could move on.

Or at least try to.

So, when I'm done here, I'm putting this slip of paper in an envelope, and I'm sealing it up, and locking it in my desk. Because though it's a knife in my heart, I need to accept the truth of my world. You're not mine anymore.

And you won't ever be again.

You're hers now. And I hope that she's kind to you. And I hope that she makes you laugh and makes you dinner, and brings you daisies just because she knows they're your favorite. I want all of those things for you, and so much more. I want you to have a wonderful life.

Because you deserve it.

So be happy my Emily. And know that I realized too late, you were the best thing to ever happen to me. I was your special girl . . . and you were mine. And we weren't just good together . . . we were great.

Your love was a gift.

Always,

-Jen

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><p><em>AN 2: So, no, they didn't get together. Sorry :( I thought that they would too! Truly. That was the original story I had planned on writing. They break up, they get back together. But that outcome just didn't work in that world I wrote for Emily. JJ was too fucked up, too far gone into her denial shell at that point for the letter from Emily to suddenly cause her to 'see the light.' If anything I think she would have dug in her heels. She had more a lot of personal growth needed to come to the point where could be accepting of who she really was. And I didn't think it was fair, given how much shit Emily had clearly gone through with her, to make Emily wait the years required for JJ to get it together. Really, why should she continue to pine for someone who treated her so badly? She shouldn't. Nobody should. That's not romantic, it's just masochistic. So I thought she deserved to be happy and move on with someone that was emotionally mature and in the same place that she was. Because really, most of the people you'll meet will come and go from your life, and you learn things from them, but it's not, as I had Emily point out, a fairytale. Real life, people break up and they meet somebody else. And that's what happened here. _

_That said, if you're a hardcore JJ/Em shipper, feel free to picture them as little old ladies ending up in the same nursing home. Because I kind of see it that way ;) And that does actually happen in real life! High school or college sweetheart break up, move on to marry other people and raise happy families. And then run into each other fifty years later as widows/widowers and get back together again :) I am SO happy this is now done! I have seriously tried to finish it more times than I can say, but I could never get find the right 'mile marker' to pop back with JJ. But when I put her post a horrible marriage (sorry Will, had to take one for the team) and now in therapy and starting to accept the mistakes she'd made. But now she can start to move on and figure out her life too. Either way though, even if they didn't get together, I wanted the story (as originally intended) to end on a more positive note. JJ finally accepting the truth that Emily wanted for her, and in turn her wanting that for Emily too. So, we at least got to that._


End file.
